


The Devil Is a Gentleman

by Fools_Rush_In_TAZ



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Alternative Universe - FBI, Explicit Language, Homophobia, Human Trafficking, Religion, Religious Conflict, Sexual Violence Mention, Slavery mention, Suicidal Thoughts, Therapy, Transphobia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-21
Updated: 2019-07-17
Packaged: 2020-01-23 15:33:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18552643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fools_Rush_In_TAZ/pseuds/Fools_Rush_In_TAZ
Summary: When the FBI calls on Pastor Merle Highchurch to assist with a human trafficking investigation, he finds himself drawn into a multinational conspiracy involving an old friend, a new family, and hellish consequences for failure...





	1. 1 Peter 2:21

Folks in the panhandle joke that there’s nothing west of Muleshoe, Texas, but they don’t think it’s very funny. Muleshoe is a town with its back to the desert, the last bastion of Texas before you face sand and cactus all the way to Santa Fe. Five thousand people live there, but it’s hard to tell why. Young men of ambition leave as soon as possible to chase football scholarships or learn a craft, while those who remain work in stockyards or factories.

Pastor Merle Highchurch liked Muleshoe just fine. Isolation meant he could tend his flock in peace. 

On this early Sunday morning, however, peace was eluding Merle. He woke up before sunrise soaked with sweat, with fleeting memories of a dream of monsters boiling in his mind. He sat up in bed and rubbed his temples. The details were rapidly fading, but the feeling of hot breath on his face and blood running down his body stuck in his mind. He shook the memory off and stumbled to the kitchen in his long pajamas. His service wouldn’t begin for several hours, but hash browns sounded good for unquiet thoughts. 

He ate quietly and drank a can of Cheerwine staring absently out his kitchen window. His mobile home sat at the edge of town, and the darkness was near absolute outside. The nightmares weren’t unheard of for him. He had served as a Navy chaplain in Grenada when the Marines landed, and those days left him depressed and panicked for years after. But that was all when he was much, much, much younger, and he hadn’t had nightmares like these since…

He couldn’t remember how long.

He heard a cough from down the hall, and saw his young son Michael shuffle in from the bedroom he shared with his older sister Mavis. Michael-more commonly Mookie to Merle-was two weeks past five years old, and he was the light of Merle’s life. He was a hand grenade of a kid-loud and energetic and unsubtle. He was a wild child, made for getting into trouble, but his heart was full of love for all of God’s creatures. This morning, however, he was uncharacteristically subdued. He had obviously been crying, and he walked silently to Merle, climbed into his lap, and clung to him, pressing his face into Merle’s pajama shirt.

“Hey there, little buddy.” Merle said quietly. “Whatcha feeling?”

Without uncovering his face, Mookie answered, “Scared.”

For a long moment Merle just hugged Mookie as he sobbed. Finally, the tears subsided slightly, and Mookie sat up and rubbed his eyes pitifully.

“Wanna tell me what you’re scared about?”

Mookie nodded thoughtfully. “I’m scared of hell, Daddy,” he answered at last.

Merle gave a small laugh, more out of surprise than amusement. “Hell? That’s an awful big thing to be worrying about,” he said. Hell is empty, and all the devils are here, he didn’t say.

“Why does God let people go to hell? Shouldn’t he save them? Isn’t that his job?”

Merle considered it. He knew the company line, of course. God does save everyone, son, he should say. Everyone gets a choice to accept Him, and if they don’t take it, God can’t help them, and they deserve what they get. 

But was that really the message he wanted to leave his son with? Turn or burn? He didn’t really know. If he was being brutally honest, Merle didn’t know about a lot of things.  
But his son needed an answer if he was going to get to sleep.

“Nobody’s going to hell today, Mookie,” he said, feeling like a hypocrite. “Jesus saves us all. That’s the important thing.”

Mookie seemed pacified by this. He nodded gently, but there was still worry in his eyes. Merle picked him up and hugged him as close as he could, and with a glass of water and his father at his side, Mookie eventually drifted off to sleep, and Merle slipped on his coat and was out the door.

Merle pulled his coat close against the cold night air of the desert as he shook out his keys and unlocked the church door. The door was old and caught on the carpet, and he had to put his shoulder into it to open it. He closed it and hung his coat on a hook near the door. He rubbed his eyes and yawned as he walked to the pulpit to find his Bible. He was, as usual, underprepared for Sunday, and he figured he should find a verse to preach about before the sun rose and his congregation arrived. As he walked up the low gray steps to his stage, a singsong voice called out to him from the first row of pews.

“Good morning, padre. How’s the soul-saving business treating you?”

Merle whirled and saw a very strange man reclining across the pew with his faux leather loafers up on the armrest. He wore black slacks with a matching blazer draped across the pew behind him, and an ironed white dress shirt with a black tie. His face was beautiful, but it shone with a wicked glee, like he’d just figured out where you keep your valuables. His eyes were green and bright, and his straight black hair was pulled back into a long ponytail hanging lazily over his chest. He wore a gun in a shoulder holster. Merle put his hands up instinctively; he knew in his gut that this fellow could be dangerous to him.

“Oh! Well, uh, you know. Could be worse. Lots of early mornings.”

From the shadows in the eves of the church, another gruff, masculine voice reproached the stranger.

“Taako, you’re being rude. Introduce yourself.”

“Your name is Taako?” Merle asked

“It’s Dutch.” Taako rose to his knees on the pew with a feline stretch. “Mama must’ve had a sense of humor.” 

The owner of the gruff voice stepped out of the shadows. He was dressed in the same black suit as Taako, but he could hardly have looked more different otherwise. He was wide and burly, built like a professional wrestler, and his face and hands were cut from many fights. His hair was dark, and his sideburns extended to his jawline. In his extended right hand was a gold badge. 

“Mr. Highchurch, my name is Special Agent Magnus Burnsides. This is my partner, Special Agent Taako Taaco. We’re with the FBI, and we need you to come with us.”

...  
“Pull over, dude. I need to get out. I’m dying.”

“Taako, you’ve been complaining for fifteen miles,” said Special Agent Burnsides. “We’re almost to Lubbock, you’re gonna survive.”

Merle stared out the window at the passing oil derricks. The two FBI agents had shuffled him out of the church and into their black SUV. Special Agent Burnsides was driving, and Special Agent Taaco picked the music (Britney Spears’ In the Zone.) They then immediately set to arguing, and hadn’t stopped in the hour since, leaving Merle no opportunity to learn what was happening to him.

“I’m a city kid, hombre. I’m not used to these long haul drives.”

“‘Long haul?’ We’ve been driving for forty-five minutes!”

Merle cleared his throat. “Excuse me, agents?”

“Yes?” the agents said in unison.

“Exactly where in the hell are we going?”

Agent Taaco turned around and looked at Merle over his sunglasses. “That’s classified, homie. I could tell you, but then I’d have to kill you.” At Merle’s visible alarm, Taaco laughed and said, “Nah, it’s all cool, my guy. We’re going to the FBI resident agency in Lubbock. Our supervisor wants to meet you.”

And with that, Special Agent Taaco went back to drumming on the dashboard and whining at Special Agent Burnsides, allowing Merle a moment to think. He’d had time to call his ex-wife Hekuba (Mavis and Mookie’s mother) before the agents shoved him in the car. She was never delighted to hear from Merle, and even less so this early in the morning, but she had agreed to come over and pick the children up early. Knowing that they were looked after was a comfort, but he still hated leaving without saying goodbye. Hopefully, he’d be back before they woke up for the day, but the agents wouldn’t give him a straight answer either way.

Finally, Special Agent Burnsides pulled the SUV into a parking lot across from a tall, tan building. He stopped, and Special Agent Taaco exploded out of the car in a flurry of stretches. Burnsides got out and opened Merle’s door, and led him inside as Taaco trailed along behind.

The FBI building was unremarkable, like any other marble-and-glass government office. The agents guided Merle through hallways full of offices and suited federal employees, and into an elevator, where Agent Taaco pressed the third floor button. Finally, they reached a large glass office, and Agent Burnsides sat Merle in a chair in front of a long wooden table. 

“An attorney will be in here in a moment to get a few things squared away, and then the Special Agent in Charge will see you,” Burnsides said. “Do you need anything? Coffee? Water? Donut?”

“A couple solid answers would go down great.”

Burnsides smiled. “Coming right up, pal.” And he shut the door.

Merle was alone in the office. It was certainly a lot nicer than anything in Muleshoe, but his stomach was upset with worry. What kind of shit had he stepped in?

The door opened and a tall, white haired black woman entered. She closed the door behind her and sat down across from Merle.

“Good morning, Pastor Highchurch. How was your drive up?” she said.

“Oh you know, about as pleasant as it can be when you’re abducted by federal agents in the middle of the night,” Merle answered. “And call me Merle.”  
“I understand your concern, Merle, and you need not worry. You’re not in any trouble. We just need your help with an issue we’ve been having. You’re free to leave at any time, of course, you’re not under arrest or anything. But the Bureau believes you can be invaluable to us.”

Merle sighed and hung his head. “Alright, fine, fine. Go ahead. What do I need to do?”

The woman opened her briefcase and slid some papers across the table to Merle. “First, you’ll need to sign these. Simple non-disclosure, we just need to make sure that the details of our business here don’t become public. In fact, if it got out that the Bureau was talking to you in particular, Merle, the consequences could be quite dire. So we need your written agreement that you will not discuss anything that happens here today, or if our business is to continue, for the foreseeable future.”

Merle picked up the papers and scanned them. He didn’t understand them, but he nodded and hummed as though he did. “Alright, sure. You got a pen, Ms…?”

“Lucretia. Here, use this one.” And she slid Merle a pen, and Merle signed the agreement. 

When she had gotten all the paperwork in order, Lucretia stood up and smiled at Merle. “Thank you, Merle. You’re making the right choice.”

“I just wish I knew what choice I was making.”

And Lucretia left, leaving Merle alone again.

He didn’t have to wait for long. Moments, later, Lucretia reappeared, along with Agents Burnsides and Taako and a red-haired stranger with a smart blue suit and a neatly trimmed beard and moustache. When the stranger spoke, his voice was much higher pitched than Merle was expecting. “Mr. Highchuch, welcome! I trust that Magnus and Taako took good care of you?”

“Sure, we had a lovely time together. We’re regular bosom buddies.”

They took seats around the table-the stranger at the head of the table, Lucretia on his left, and Taako lounging on his right. Magnus stood by the door.

“Merle, I’m Special Agent in Charge Drew Davenport.” said the stranger. “I run an FBI unit that targets transnational organized crime. Do you know what that means?”

“Like the mob?”

“Sure, the mafia is included in what we do, but that’s not my focus. Today, I’m here to get some facts from you. What can you tell me about your friend John Hunger?”

Of all the things Merle had been expecting, he would never have been prepared for that question.

“John? Oh, boy. Good question. Well, I knew him when we were in the navy. I was his chaplain for a while. We were close, I mean, he was a solid guy. Real strong in the faith department. Ambitious, too. When I got myself wounded in Grenada, he was there for me. He took good care of me back on base. We kinda drifted apart after we left the service. Last I heard, he was traveling, doing sermons for big crowds all over. Is he in some kinda trouble?”

Davenport and Lucretia looked at each other. Lucretia nodded slightly, and Davenport took a deep breath.

“No, Merle. John’s not in trouble yet. But we think he may be soon. John’s been busy since you lost contact. He put down roots in Austin, and he opened a megachurch. He’s big, thousands of people turn out on Sunday.”

“That sounds great!” Merle said. “Good for him!”

Lucretia handed Davenport a file from her briefcase, and he took out a picture and handed it to Merle.

“Merle, this is a picture of a man named Graham. He turned up dead in Malaysia last month. He had been a forced laborer, a slave, in a sweatshop making drugs. He got mouthy, and the slavers killed him.”

Davenport handed him another picture.

“This is a picture of Leeman Kessler. He’s still missing.”

And another.

“This is Brogden. She was rescued from a sexual exploitation ring in Mexico.”

“Why are you showing me these?” Merle asked.

Davenport spread the pictures out in front of Merle. “Because every one of these people was a member of John’s church. We think he’s using his church as a front for his human trafficking.”

Merle leaned back, stunned. “You’re joking.

“I would never joke about this, Merle. Please, if you know anything else about John, anything we can use to get close to him, you could help us save a lot of lives.”

“I can’t believe he would be involved in this. John’s not that kinda guy.”

“Evidence to the contrary, my guy,” said Taako.

“Well, what do you want me to say? That he always talked about how much he loved kidnapping? No, John was just this guy, you know?”

“Merle,” said Lucretia. “Maybe John’s not involved. Anything’s possible. But either way, the people of his church are being targeted and kidnapped. If he isn’t behind it, then he can help us protect them. Either way, we need you to help us win his trust. Anything we can use to get an agent close to him will allow us to either vindicate him, or save his congregation from being trafficked, assaulted, or worse.”

A heavy silence descended over the table while Merle thought this over. He thought about John, and what they had meant to each other. And he thought about Mavis and Mookie, and what he would do if he lost them. And he made a call.

“Alright. I’ll help. But I want to be the one who gets close to him.”

This startled the agents. “Now hold on,” said Magnus from the door. “You’re not an agent. What are you going to do if you do find something incriminating?”

“I’ll report back to y’all, of course! What, do you think I’m gonna risk my neck on this thing? No, I’m calling in the big guns!”

Davenport smiled, considering the possibility. “He’s already close to John. That would give us a huge advantage.”

“We’ll be around to keep an eye on him, Maggie,” said Taako. “How incompetent could he possibly be?”

Lucretia raised her hand. “I vehemently object. He’s untrained, unequipped for this kind of delicate operation. If something happens to him, that liability is on all of us.”

“I waive all liability!” Merle said. “On my head be it. Y’all told me what I’m getting into. I’ll sign any paperwork you want, but I want to be in on this.”

Davenport stood up. “I’m calling this discussion. Taako, read Merle in on all of our intelligence. Lucretia, draw up releases for Merle to sign. Magnus, call Lup and Barry in Austin, let them know we just added a seventh bird to this job.” He walked around the table and shook Merle’s hand. “Welcome to the team, Mr. Highchurch.”


	2. Isaiah 55:3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> United with the Bureau and committed to his mission, Merle heads to Austin to learn what he's up against.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads up, John says some real bigoted bullshit in this one. Trigger warnings for transphobia and homophobia. Remember, John is the bad guy, and the things he says here are evil. Trans rights are human rights.

Austin, Merle later decided, was the most beautiful and silliest city he had ever been in. 

It was no fault of its own, he supposed. The city just grew strange as the people in it did. From Frost Bank Tower to Camp Mabry, down 6th Street and Lamar and South Congress, Austin was full of people unapologetically doing their own thing. The city moved contentedly, aimlessly, and with cheerful oddness. Where Houston hummed with energy and commerce, and Dallas felt important and sure of itself, Austin was happy to be a left-leaning, fun-loving freak. There’s a good reason the “Keep [city] weird” slogan was born in Austin.

The team left for Austin that morning. Interrogating Merle was the last thing on their to-do list before moving the operation to the capitol, so without further ado, the team loaded into one big black suburban and set out. Davenport drove, and Taako and Lucretia fought over who got shotgun until Lucretia finally capitulated. Magnus and Lucretia sat in the middle, and Merle was alone in the back. 

The drive was six hours long, and Merle felt every one of them.

He missed Mavis and Mookie. Davenport assured him that he would be allowed to call them and check in at least once a day, with supervision to make sure he didn’t share anything sensitive. But if Davenport was right, he was going into harm’s way. His stomach filled with acid when he thought about John, and the horrible things he was accused of. 

Taako put on a fast, angry album-How I Learned to Stop Giving a Shit and Love Mindless Self Indulgence-and everyone in the car gave a collective groan. The guitar line felt like an icepick driving itself into Merle’s head. It fit his mood pretty well.

They arrived in Austin narrowly in time for John’s sermon.  
…

Taako was a good man, though he didn’t know it himself. Slender and beautiful, his hands moved fast and his heart moved faster. He was brash and confident, and aloof to speak to him, a byproduct of hard raising and hard living.

Taako and his twin sister Lupita never met their mother or their father. Taako’s earliest memory was sitting in a chair much too big for him next to his sister, listening to a social worker lecture him for… he couldn’t swear as to what, actually. Most of his youth ran that way, if he was being honest.

Taako and Lup were foster kids in the city of Laredo, a border town that never got word that Texas seceded from Mexico.The pair bounced from place to place, outcast but never alone. Lup realised she was a woman at a young age, and in poor South Texas, she was seldom tolerated and never accepted. In every foster home they hit, they faced some transphobic bullshit. And the only force that could put a stop to it faster than Taako was Lup herself. Taako was small, and he was feminine, and he was gay, but he would be Goddamned if he let any wannabe gangster, Bible thumper, or inbred hillbilly lay a hand or say an unkind word to the only person he loved in the world.

Their schooling was hard for them. Though Lup was never allowed to express herself the way she wanted, she thrived in school. Work was always an escape for her. If she could bury herself into learning, into process, into proving every bastard who ever doubted her wrong, she could escape her problems. Taako did not feel the same. Taako hated school. He hated the looks, he hated the pressure, he hated every motherfucker in the building. He acted out. He fought. He stole. He established a reputation for ferocity that every bully tested and found true.

The night before they graduated high school-Lup valedictorian, and Taako persona non grata-they lay awake in bed for a long time. They always shared a bed, out of necessity and comfort. Tonight, as their world looked set to change, they talked long into the night.

“Lulu, what are we going to do with our lives?” Taako asked. “We’ve always coasted on the assumption that tomorrow wasn’t coming. Now that we’ve made it, I wonder what we’re gonna do, y’know?”

Lup was never without an answer when dread crept into Taako. “We’ll do what we’ve always done. I’ll work hard for the whole world, and you’ll work hard for us. And we’ll look out for each other. And we’ll make it okay.”

A few short years later, the pair were graduated FBI field agents, unparalleled in their class. Lup’s drive to succeed and Taako’s animal magnetism and effortless talent saw them to a coveted seat in a new organized crime unit, serving under the legendary Special Agent in Charge Drew Davenport.

Taako thought about all these things as he reclined in his seat between Merle and Magnus in the Life Everlasting Church. As John Hunger began his sermon, Taako dreamed about how sweet busting this bastard was going to be.

…

The praise band at the church wasn’t bad. The two singers were a pair of blonde teenage twins, a boy and a girl, and their voices were sweet and pure. Merle thought they’d be a hit in Muleshoe, and mused about sniping them for his own church.

Magnus leaned in close to Merle. “That’s Lydia and Edward Wonder. John found them in a local youth choir last year. They’re the best part of this whole dog and pony show.”

The band wrapped up in a glorious polyphony, and Lydia and Edward bowed to applause like the trumpets at rapture. 

The church fell quiet, and the band struck up a dramatic chord. The lights went out, and a spotlight came up on stage. In the spotlight was John Hunger.

Merle choked. John looked exactly like he remembered: strong, confident, commanding. He looked right at home surrounded by thousands of followers. He wore a black suit, with a black shirt and a tie swirling with opalescent colors. And then he began to speak, a baritone country rumble.

“Friends, I have seen in many Christians of our era a certain cowardice, a terror of seeing the truth and facing it forwards. I understand the fear. Believe me, y’all, I understand. I feel it too. What are we afraid of? Y’all, we’re afraid of Hell.

“And we should be. Hell is scary. Hell is the absence of God’s light and His love, and that’s worse than any fire or brimstone I’ve ever heard of. And that’s hard to think about. So, the cowardly Christian turns from the truth. They demur, they hide from it. Maybe you don’t actually go to HELL Hell, they say. Maybe your soul is just evaporated, annihilated. Maybe you burn for a while, but not eternity, that’s just unreasonable. God loves us. He wouldn’t have us tortured for all eternity, would he?

“Well, Paul told Timothy, teach the holy word of God, unaltered and undiluted. So shall I do. And the word of God is, folks, there is a Hell. There is a Hell, and the unsaved will see it. So we ask ourselves, who are the unsaved? Are there any unsaved here?”

There was a great collective “NO”, and Taako raised his hand. Davenport quickly swatted it down.

“Now are y’all sure?” John asked. “Are y’all really sure? For the unsaved are all around us. The unsaved are any who do not embrace the word of God, undiluted and entire. And the word of God is far more than just ‘Jesus is my Lord and Savior,’ which is where so many cowardly Christians stop. The word of God is the unsaved will turn in Hell until Judgement Day. The word of God is that Judaism, Islam, Hinduism, all the pagan religions of the world are cancers to which Christ is the cure, and the uninoculated will turn in Hell until Judgement Day. ‘Thou shalt have no false idols,’ says the Holy Word, and all the fell religions of the world are as false as it gets.

“The word of God is Leviticus 20:13: ‘'If a man has sexual relations with a man as one does with a woman, both of them have done what is detestable. They are to be put to death; their blood will be on their own heads.’ We the good Christians know this. The homosexuals and the queers out there, they don’t know it. They don’t love God, undiluted and completely. They take exceptions, they pick and choose what parts of the Holy Word they want to follow. Thus are they unsaved. Thus are they bound for Hell.

“And what about those who reject the bodies God granted them? The gender-benders that are so common nowadays?”

Merle felt Taako prick up, felt the anger rising in his companion, though he didn’t open his eyes or make any outward motion.

“God made us all in His holy image. The ‘transgendered community,’ the poor misguided souls who think God didn’t make them right, all the ones who alter God’s perfect creation? They reject the holy word. Hell bound, every one of them.”

Taako began to shake silently as the audience applauded.

“And how can we redeem the world of the evil of unbelief? To seek to convert with the good word and the word alone? Are we not to be fishers of men? And do the fish always come to the fisher willingly?

“The Romans had a saying, ‘Viet consilio.’ Through force or through counsel. So must be the motto of every Christian who wants to rid the world of sin. We will make of this world a good Christian world, or we will make of this world ashes, for we have another world waiting for us in the Kingdom of God. We will do it with as much love and heart and convincing as the word allows us, and the Holy Bible is indeed the greatest recruitment tool the world has ever seen, but where counsel fails, we must use force. The unbelievers of this world will be saved. And we’re gonna save them, whether they like it or not. Let us pray.”

And John led the congregation in prayers, and Lydia and Edward led the congregation in hymns, and church was dismissed.

“You know, Merle,” Taako said as they shuffled out into the lobby. “For a guy covering up some evil shit, your boy doesn’t really even pretend not to be evil.”

“Yeah, I’ll admit he’s a little more fire and brimstone than I remember.”

“That’s another problem we’re going to face.” Davenport said. “His crowd is so rabid for him, if we take him, they could get violent.” 

Magnus cracked his knuckles. “God, I hope they do. I want to bust some of these hillbilly bigots up.”

“Magnus!” Davenport rebuked. “That’s not what we’re here for. If we take John, it’s for his crimes, not his faith.”

“Boss, you heard that horseshit they were cheering for.” Taako said. “Let us imagine it for a bit.”

As they forced their way out of the church, Merle discovered a massive crowd had formed; protesters come to oppose John’s brand of Christianity and drive it out of Austin. They formed a ring around the entrance of the church, and carried signs promoting peace and tolerance. Merle’s heart hurt to be on their bad side. He promised himself that he would come back and join them if he got the chance.

They made their way to the parking garage and found a sleek drop top Camaro next to their suburban. A pair of legs were draped over the driver’s door. When they got close, the owner of those legs sat up. She looked so much like Taako, Merle immediately knew that this must be Lup. Which made the heavyset fellow next to her reading the newspaper Barry, the team’s forensic anthropologist.

“Hey gang!” Lup said to the team. “Did shit-for-brains say anything cool this time?”

There was a brief reunion, and Merle was introduced to the pair. Lup hugged him, and Barry shook his hand. Then the team mounted up and went back to the Austin Bureau office to have lunch and make a plan.


	3. Proverbs 16:3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Bureau begins to make moves against John.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise, an early update! I got done a little faster than usual, and thought I'd drop it as a Mother's Day present.
> 
> Content warning: suicidal ideation and therapy.

“You’ll be delighted to know that we’re not alone in hating John Hunger’s ugly face.”

Lup put a slide on the projector. Pictured were two women, one burly and one lithe, holding a massive “Love is love” sign, and a smaller red-faced woman alongside them yelling toward the camera.

“Left to right, we have Killian Fangbattle, her wife Carey Fangbattle, and their girlfriend Noelle Redcheeks. They’re the leaders of a local quasi-military queer rights organization called the Rainbow Community Alliance, sort of the gay Black Panthers.”

“Hell yeah,” said Taako. “Direct action. Love that.”

Barry stood up next to Lup. “While y’all were at church letting Merle get a feel for John, we met with these three to discuss what they know about him. Apparently they have a source inside the church who keeps an eye on John.”

“Who is the source?” Davenport asked.

“Of course, they didn’t divulge the name. However, they agreed to channel their reporting to us insofar as it will help us bring down John.”

Lucretia raised her hand. “We have to communicate to them how fine the line they’re walking is. If we use the informant, it’s likely they’ll have to be called to testify, or at least named in a court. If the informant commits any crime in pursuit of information, all their information may be admissible in court. If the Alliance organization commits any crimes, their information will not protect them from prosecution. They have to play firmly within the rules if they want to help us.”

Barry nodded. “Duly noted. We’ll make sure to communicate that to them, and we’ll keep our connection to them tight. Only what we need, nothing more. And speaking of what we need, as a show of good faith, they gave us a dossier on John’s church hierarchy and it’s inner politics.”

Another slide, this one a pyramid of headshot photos.

“At the top is John, obviously,” Lup said. “As pastor, he runs the faith side and the business side of the church. If trafficking is happening in an organized way in the church, he knows about it.”

“Below him is the Pastoral Counselor, Isaak Roswell, who used to be Hays County sheriff before he got born again, and the Development and Guidance team, led by Lucas Miller. Those are John’s two major deputies, and they represent his interests in the religious and government communities, respectively. Then below them, there’s the social outreach chair, a man named Kravitz Keetz.”

“Dumb name,” Taako said.

“Got ‘im,” Lup said, and they high-fived.

“Alright, let’s make a plan.” Davenport said. “Lup, you and Magnus are going to be in charge of investigating Roswell and Miller. Taako, you ply Keetz. Social outreach is a perfect position to be grooming potential trafficking targets. Lucretia and Barry will be on hand to advise. Merle, you and I are going to make an appointment with the boss. We need to sit down with John.”

“Sounds like fun,” Lup said. “Say, where is Maggie?”

…

Magnus’s therapy group met in a small mental health clinic in San Marcos, a half hour south of Austin. It wasn’t like him to seek help like this; he would never willingly burden someone else with his problems, but the FBI therapist had said if he didn’t go to the group, he would almost certainly have to be admitted soon, so Magnus went. He parked his car in the shade of an apple tree, and took a deep breath, and stepped out. He had told the group he was going to the gym. He laughed out loud thinking about it, and a cardinal flew away from the tree in fear. Magnus knew all about toxic masculinity, and knew that he shouldn’t be ashamed of going to therapy and group, and of taking his meds, but…

The team didn't need to know. He was handling it. Which was what he had said before, as well, but now he actually was really handling it.

Magnus went inside. The hospital smelled like lemon cleaning solvent. The meeting room was nice, though. Blue accents offset the hospital white, so it wasn’t nearly as oppressive as it might have been. He took his seat in the circle, and with customary greetings, the meeting began.

He did like Brad, the therapist who ran the group. That helped. Brad was gentle and loving and warm, all the traits that Magnus most valued. He seemed to really want to help. Which was why Magnus couldn’t let him. He was not allowed to subject good people to his shit. 

“So, Magnus,” Brad said. “How have you been this last couple weeks?”

Magnus opened his mouth to say, “Fine, how were you?” but the sound died in his throat. He was trying to stop lying in group.

“I’ve been medium. Scared, a lot of the time. I haven’t been shaking as much. No suicidal impulses-wait, no… Only one impulse, but it was small, and I didn’t want to act on it. It was just a thought.”

“Sounds like improvement! Want to tell us what you’ve been scared of?”

“You know, the usual. Nothing really new. Losing my friends. I’m petrified of it. And we just started a new… a new project, and I think it could get bad before it’s over. And I’m afraid that if something happens to Taako or Lup, or any of the others, I’ll eat my gun, whether it’s my fault or not.”

“Why do you feel that way?”

Magnus laughed, a sharp and unhappy sound, and his voice was thick as he continued. “Because there’s no situation where it’s not my fault. If I’m there, and I could have stopped it, I should have. If I couldn’t have stopped it, I should have been able to. These are my family. Their safety is my responsibility.”

“Interesting. Let’s open it up to the group. Anyone have any insights for Magnus?”

The haggard, redneck veteran in the group raised his shaking hand. His Parkinson’s made it hard for him to speak, so he rarely volunteered. Brad called on him. 

“Yes, Boyland? What do you have to share?”

“Magnus,” Boyland asked slowly. “Do you trust your friends?”

“Of course! I trust them with my life.”

“Could’ve fooled me. It sounds like you think they’re so weak, they can’t handle what you have to give them.”

Magnus clenched his fists. “That’s not it at all.”

“It sounds to me like you think they’d buckle under the pressure of supporting you. And that’s no foundation for trust. You can either trust them to take care of you like you take care of them, or you can go on infantilizing them. Your business, not mine.”

The rest of the meeting went on, but it was like a beehive humming in Magnus’s ears. He couldn’t stop thinking about what Boyland had said. He trusted his team to support him. Right? He just didn’t want to burden them. He was sure that was it.

Back in the car, he ran his fingers across his service pistol and thought about what the cold metal would feel like against his temple. Then he shook off the thought like an errant mosquito and put the car in gear.

…

Davenport tapped Merle’s arm as the rain began to come down in earnest. “So, how are you feeling about your choices today?”

Merle leaned back in his seat and rubbed his eyes. “Holy hell, it feels like a month. I don’t know, Dav, disappointed, I guess? Not only is my old buddy a bigot, but I’ve been working for the FBI for almost a whole day, and nobody’s pointed a gun at me, or gotten in a car chase with me, or anything exciting.”

That made Davenport laugh. He pulled the lever beneath the driver’s seat and reclined. Davenport had taken Merle out to the SUV to make a very important phone call. He had to be supervised to make sure he didn’t share anything important, but Dav felt he should have as much privacy as he could be allowed. Dav laid back and closed his eyes, trying to seem like he wasn’t listening intently. The SUV was parked on the top floor of the garage, and the lights of downtown Austin floated them in pale white light through the water running down the windshield.

The phone rang three times, then Mavis picked up. “Dad!”

“Hey, babydoll. What’s new?”

“What happened? Where are you?”

“I’m okay, I’m okay! Everything is okay. I’m in Austin. I got a call from an old friend, he needed me to come help him with something urgent. I’ll be back as soon as I can be. Until then, I’m alright.”

“What did he need that was so important? You left in the middle of the night, there was nobody at the church to do the service.”

“I can’t tell you that, baby. But trust me, it’ll all be okay.”

“That doesn’t make me feel better at all.”

“Alright, I’ll tell you, but you gotta promise to keep it a secret, okay?”

Davenport sat up and shook his head. Merle held out his hand to hold him steady.

“Okay, I promise.”

“My buddy needed an exorcism. There’s a demon loose in Austin, and he needed a proper adventurer-preacher to come send it back to Hell.”

A long silence across the phone. Davenport’s jaw fell slack.

Merle chuckled, trying to maintain composure. “How ‘bout that? Your daddy’s a Ghostbuster.”

Mavis seemed to recover her voice.

“Are you being serious?”

“Serious as hell!”

“Demons are real?”

“Well, I sure hope so, otherwise I drove down here for nothing. But don’t worry. It’s probably nothing, he just wanted a second set of eyes on the problem. And no demons are coming for you or Mookie, I promise.”

“Dad-.”

“Your mother, maybe. But you kids are safe.”

“Alright. Stay safe though, okay?”

“I always do, don’t I?”

“I guess so.”

“I have to go now, baby. Give your brother hugs and kisses for me.”

And with a goodnight, the call was over.

Davenport put his hand on Merle’s shoulder. “I can tell you really love them, Merle. Thank you, truly, for leaving them to come help us. This country owes you one.”

Merle put his hand on Davenport’s. They sat there in silence a while, watching the rain run off the car, and for a moment, they weren’t afraid.

“I owe you one too.” Davenport said quietly.

And they stayed there for another hour, just talking and listening to the rain. Thus ended Merle’s first day in the FBI.

…

Taako’s appointment was at 3 the next afternoon. It was a May downpour in central Texas, and last night’s storm had yet to blow over. Taako pulled up the collar of his windbreaker against the weather and hurried across the plaza towards Life Everlasting. 

The first crime ring Davenport’s team brought down was a white nationalist terrorist cell, responsible for a string of arson across East Texas and Louisiana. That was where Davenport discovered Taako’s genius for undercover work. Magnus was the obvious first choice for the role, but he couldn’t sit in the same room with a racist without snapping, let alone spout their vitriol himself. Though Taako and Lup were Hispanic, Taako could pass for white if he dyed his hair, and Taako had the devil-may-care attitude that allowed him to say anything he had to to accomplish his objectives. 

And that was why Taako found himself meeting with the Social Outreach chair of Life Everlasting. He was going to go get religion.

Kravitz’s office was on the second floor. Taako took the elevator up. He found himself on the second floor rotunda, looking out a row of offices and the church coffee shop. ‘Please the Lord,’ Taako thought. ‘Buy him an espresso.’ That being said, the meeting wasn’t for another twenty minutes, and he hadn’t had coffee yet today…

Kravitz emerged from the elevator a quarter hour later and saw the most beautiful man he’d ever beheld absentmindedly doing the cup routine from Pitch Perfect with a small stack of coffee cups. 

“Mr. Taaco?” Kravitz asked, as politely as he could so as not to interrupt.

“YES!” Taako answered, jumping to his feet and turning to shake hands. “Nice to meet you! I was just waiting for you!”

“Well, you found me.” Kravitz smiled. “Shall we talk in my office?”

“Lead on, Macduff.” Taako said. 

Kravitz’s office was cold; at least ten degrees colder than the rest of the church. The walls were wood panelled, and his desk was heavy and oaken. Most notably, above the desk, there was a massive painting of the angel of death descending over Egypt, with the Jews painting their doors red and the pharaoh lamenting and gnashing his teeth. It did not match Kravitz’s whole aesthetic whatsoever, Taako thought. Hell, the man was wearing rainbow socks. 

“So,” Kravitz said. “I hear you’re a wayward penitent come to redeem your soul at the gates of the Holy Lord thy God?”

“Yeah, that about sums it up. I just love Jeezy so much, you know? His new stuff and his old stuff. The whole catalog.”

“Well, we’ve got the whole catalog for you here, friend. Every word of the gospels, all wrapped up in a neat little package. Sound like your kinda bag?”

“I mean, it certainly sounds hot, not gonna lie. I was wondering though, what can you tell me about this Pastor John fella? I hear great things.”

 

Kravitz smiled a big wide smile and stood up. “Oh, John is wonderful. Have you come to any of his sermons?”

“Yeah, I might have made one or two.” 

“Excellent! Well, then you know he knows the truth, the whole blessed package of it. Praise God.”

“Hell yeah, praise God,” Taako said through a yawn. 

“John came to us from the tour circuit. He was a road preacher for many years, of course. That’s where God visited him.”

Taako blinked. “Oh?”

“Mmhmm. In a hotel room in Buffalo. God appeared before him, told him how best to spread the gospels, and granted him the power to perform miracles.”

“And what miracles are those, darling?” Taako asked, leaning forward in his seat. 

Kravitz leaned over his desk. “Healing. Prophecy. True vision. I’m surprised you haven’t seen it yet. It’s amazing, truly. I insist you come on Sunday, I’ll ask John to prepare something special. “

Taako smiled, “Can’t stand to wait, darling.” 

“Well, then we won’t make you,” said John from the doorway.

“Oh!” Taako stood and whirled to face the intruder. “Howdy, partner.”

“Hello, Taako.” John said. “I happen to have a meeting in a few minutes with some folks who need healing. Care to tag along?”

Taako looked at Kravitz, a long look as he tried to find an excuse to not be alone with John. One did not come.

“Let’s get it on,” Taako said, only shaking a little.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the warm reception! If you like what I make, feel free to subscribe. I have lots more fics I'm working on, including Bee and Puppycat, Avengers, Max Brooks's World War Z, and other Adventure Zone stuff. 
> 
> If you LOVE what I make, maybe swing by my Patreon and keep abreast of my other projects I'm working on!  
> https://www.patreon.com/FoolsRushInCJ
> 
> Thanks all!


	4. Psalm 37:1-6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the wake of two shocking revelations, the team figures out how to fight back against John.

The chapel was eerily quiet when it was empty. Taako heard the echo of his footsteps ricocheting around the enormous room as he stepped up to the stage, where a small congregation was gathered-apparently the ones who needed miracles performed-as well as the young Lydia and Edward. John breezed up onto the stage and gathered them around him. Taako and Kravitz stood back a respectful distance. 

“Howdy, friends,” John said to the congregants. “Tell me your stories.”

A small woman-or perhaps she only seemed small next to the enormous chapel and the even larger presence of her faith leader-stepped forward and knelt before John. “My son, pastor.” She dragged a boy with a leg cast and crutches forward, and he knelt as well. “His leg was crushed by one of our cows, he was on the prayer list last week. The doctors say it isn’t healing right, and he’ll lose the use of the leg.” The boy was solemn, and the mother began weeping.

“Well, let’s see what we can’t do about that.” John took off his white gloves and laid his hands on the child’s cast as Lydia and Edward began a low hymn. 

“Good Lord, fill this boy with your divine light and healing. By the power of the Holy Word and of Almighty Jesus Christ, I command you to HEAL.”

And the acapella chorus of two swelled to a crescendo, and the boy collapsed and began writhing in pain. Taako took a step forward to stop him, to help the kid, but Kravitz, without looking away, extended an arm and blocked him. 

“Wait,” Kravitz whispered. “Just watch.”

The boy appeared to be in absolute agony. He bucked against John’s hands, and the pastor had to wrap his fingers around the cast to keep it in his grasp. The boy’s mother, weeping furiously, dove forward to stop him, but Edward and Lydia, still singing, reached forward and restrained her. Finally, a bone chilling SNAP filled the air, and the boy stopped crying. Stillness settled over the chapel. John stood up and put his gloves back on.

“The boy is cured,” he said.

The boy shook his leg experimentally, and said, “Mom, it doesn’t hurt anymore.”

The mother fell on John, thanking him for curing her child. Kravitz grabbed Taako’s shoulder and led him out of the chapel.

“That’s where the pastor’s congregation came from. He’s gifted, Taako. Blessed by God.”

And Kravitz walked back to his office. Taako watched him walk away, then pulled out his cell phone. 

“Hey Cap’n Port? Yeah, the plot just thickened.”

...

The team gathered for an emergency meeting. Magnus paced on one side of the table, and Taako, still too worked up to sit, paced on the other, occasionally mumbling or jumping up and down in confusion and frustration. Davenport was in his usual position at the head of the table, and the rest of the team were distributed around him. For a long moment, nobody spoke. They just processed what Taako had told them. 

“So, I’ll say it if nobody else will: this is weird, right?” Barry asked.

“Yeah, Barold, I’d say circle gets the square.” Lup said from her reclined position, feet on an office chair and head on Barry’s lap. “This one is a wrench.”

“It was fuckin’ spooky, y’all,” Taako said. “The kid was crying and screaming, and then he… wasn’t. John just… healed him. It sure looked a lot like magic.”

“There’s no such this as magic,” Merle said, his head resting on his fist, deep in thought. “And no miracles, either. At least not in Texas, not that I’ve seen.”

“I honestly expected him to throw a fireball at me,” Taako said.

“Nobody’s gonna get incinerated, Taako,” Davenport said. “It’s a trick. It’s like a placebo cure. If you wave a magic wand over somebody and tell them they’re all better, they’ll feel better, as long as they believe you. And belief is the thing John channels best.”

“Belief and money,” Lucretia said.

“And if he loses one, he’ll necessarily lose the other.”

This new voice came from a stranger wearing a visitor’s badge. Davenport waved her in.

“Mrs. Fangbattle. Welcome, come on in.”

Carey entered and sat at Davenport’s left. Her slacks were pressed, and her briefcase was full.

“So we have new information from our mole. I thought y’all might like to hear about it.” She paused to draw out some papers. “We have word that they’ve picked a new target, and they’re going to be kidnapped on Sunday in the shuffle of the church letting out.”

“Do we know who?” Barry asked.

“No, but we know the next best thing. We know that Isaak Roswell is the one picking targets and ordering the kidnappings. The mole overheard this order being given. I’m afraid we have no hard evidence yet, but we’re working on it.”

“Let us bring Roswell in, chief,” Magnus said. “We need to get the name of his target.”

“Too dangerous,” Davenport said. “I don’t want to tip our hand yet. Our advantage is secrecy.”

Lucretia weighed in. “Sir, with all respect, a person is about to be kidnapped. We should intervene, however we can.”

“And how can we threaten Roswell? We have no ammunition against him.”

“We have to try!” Merle said.

Davenport deliberated, then spoke. “Fine. Magnus, Lup, go ‘round his house. Pick him up. Bring him in. We’ll see what we can do.”

…

Dirty 6th Street was no place for a church official. It was, well, dirty, Austin’s den of sin. West and East 6th, those were fine, respectable neighborhoods. But Dirty 6th, the section between SoCo and I-35? Not nearly so nice. Pool halls and dollar-shot bars line the drunk-filled streets. Tourists came from all over the world to sample the depravity on offer in the real Live Music Capital of the World.

Lup and Magnus had been combing bars all evening. Roswell was somewhere; his background check showed he was a heavy drinker, and on Friday night, Dirty 6th was the place to be. He wasn’t home, so he was here. Somewhere. But though Austin’s tourism was nowhere near ACL or South By Southwest levels, the early summer foot traffic was brutal, and the agents were forced to park and hunt door to door on foot.

They finally found Isaak Roswell in a bar called Bay’s. He’d been drinking all day, it seemed, and the bartender seemed ready to throw him out. Magnus entered first and swept to the right, and Lup sliced the pie to the left. Lup saw Isaak first, and cut in next to him. 

 

“Mr. Roswell?”

“Yes?”

Lup flashed her badge. “Special Agent Lupita Taako. I’m with the FBI, and I need you to come with me.”

“‘Course. One moment.”

And Roswell threw his drink in Lup’s face, and dashed away, directly into Magnus’s waiting arms.

“Hold up, buddy!” Magnus said. “You’re not going anywhere.”

Roswell stomped on Magnus’s foot, then drove a haymaker into his gut that sent Magnus sprawling. He whipped around to hit Lup, and was stopped in his place by Lup’s stun gun.

Magnus stood up and dusted himself off. “FBI!” he yelled, showing his badge to the assembled crowd, who went back to their drinks. This didn’t even make top ten in the most exciting things that had happened on Dirty 6th today.

Lup hauled Isaak up to his feet and cuffed his wrists, and the pair dragged him out to their SUV outside.

…

“So why did you try to run, Sheriff? Got some trouble looking for you?”

Lup was always good cop, Magnus was always bad cop. They’d been doing it for years, with incredible effect. They’d broken down cartel enforcers and mafia hitmen, and they were sure Sheriff Isaak would be no different. Unfortunately, the former lawman had sobered up, and therefore shut up. 

“Force of habit, ma’am. Before I got born-again, I was pretty regularly in trouble with legal types, and I still feel the need to avail myself of the exit when Johnny Law comes looking for me.”

“If only habit were a legal defense,” Magnus said. “Two counts of assaulting a federal agent, one of resisting arrest. That’ll go down real smooth, won’t it?”

“Some attack dogs you have there,” Merle said to Davenport behind the two way mirror. “Lucky they save it for the bad guys.” 

“Lup and Magnus are the best. Just watch.”

“Tell me about Leeman Kessler,” Lup said in the interrogation room.

“What do you want to know?” the Sheriff asked. “He went missing. It was tragic. I consoled his family myself, along with Pastor John and the rest of the church.”

“We know that’s not the whole truth, Roswell.” Magnus said. “We know you’ll have another family to console on Monday if we don’t step in. And you’d better bet we’ll be there, ensuring the public safety.”

 

“We of course welcome law enforcement at our church.” Roswell was quick with his answers. Too quick? Perhaps. “If you believe there is a material danger to our congregation, shouldn’t you be consulting APD instead of arresting me?”

“Maybe so. But we also love to get a drunk and disorderly off the street. I hope your service tomorrow is good, because tonight you’re sleeping in the drunk tank.”

And Lup confidently strode out of the room. Magnus glanced down at Roswell, winked, said “Wink,” out loud, and followed her, leaving the former lawman to dry out and prepare for his long night inside.

...

Davenport lived in a modest suburban house just outside the city, which had cost him relatively little in the 90s but was worth millions today due to its current proximity to the city. Merle and Magnus drove up the caliche driveway and parked. Tomorrow may be Sunday, the day a terrible crime would be faced, but today was Saturday, and Dav had generously invited the team out to his place for a night of R and R.

Davenport was on the porch, sitting on a wide wooden swing. He had a glass jar in his hand, and a small box full of plant matter next to him. His attention was on his hands, which were constantly moving between the box and the jar.

“Howdy, boys. Come on up here, sit a spell.” 

The boys obliged him, sitting on either side of him on the swing.

“Y’all know how to shell bluebonnet seeds?” Davenport asked, still working diligently on the pea-like pods. “It’s easy, just break off the stem and slit it open with your thumb. The seed pods are meant to crack open in the summer to spread the seeds, so you just lever them open and pick out the seeds.”

Magnus and Merle did as commanded, and quickly developed a large complement of bluebonnet seeds for Captain Davenport’s collection. They worked in silence, just enjoying the warm May evening and each other’s company.

“Say, Dav, where’s the rest of the gang?” Magnus finally asked.

“‘Round back. Barry’s grilling, Lup and Taako are swimming, Lucretia’s hanging out waiting for us.”

“Then what are we doing out here?” Magnus asked.

“I needed my seeds shelled! I thought I‘d put y’all to work!”

Davenport laughed, and Merle thought it was a beautiful sound. They went around the house to the backyard, and the central Texas evening was full of light and life.

“What’s good, nerds!” Lup yelled from the pool which overlooked a hill country view.

“Yeah nerds! Hop in!” Taako yelled, splashing Magnus.

“Taako, you dick! These shoes are faux suede, they might as well be cotton candy!” Magnus shouted back, before jumping into the pool in his clothes to wrestle his best friend, his brother almost as much as Lup’s.

...

As Magnus set the alarm on his phone to wake up in time for church, he looked out at his team, scattered across Davenport’s living room. Dav, asleep in his chair. Merle, asleep next to him. (They both fit.) Lucretia on the fold out couch, curled into a ball. Lup and Taako had already fallen asleep in Davenport’s bed when the rest of the group got ready to go to sleep-they had tired themselves out in the pool-and Barry had joined his wife and her brother.

Magnus felt his heart fill, like a song filled a concert hall; beautiful, irresistible, and with the greatest of care. A friend, Magnus decided, is someone you’d kill for. Family are the ones you’d die for.

That was a happy thought to him. Without the team, he had no family. Now, he had a clique for whom he’d lay down his life in a moment. 

Lucretia stirred, saw Magnus watching over them, and spoke. “Maggie, you need to sleep. We’re getting up early.”

“I know Lucretia. I’m just… just thinking.”

Lucretia extended her hand. “We’ll all still be here when you wake up. I promise.”

Magnus never told anyone about his anxieties, but it was hard to hide things from Lucretia. Her instincts could penetrate lead. Magnus smiled, held Lucretia’s hand for a moment, and laid back to sleep. 

But it would be another hour before he could turn his senses off and find rest.


	5. Proverbs 12:26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sunday's church meeting comes to an incendiary end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is definitely not dead! I still have big plans for it. However, this one is a bit cumbersome to write, so I'm moving off my biweekly schedule to a more leisurely approach. Subscribe for updates!

John made a habit of praying before he led a congregation. To pray, to offer oneself up to God, to affirm his commitment to Jesus, that was the how he cleansed his own filthy soul before he could offer to cleanse others’s. John was a sinner. He knew that. All the children of Adam and Eve were unworthy of God by default. Only by accepting the absolution and forgiveness of Christ could they become worthy. And that was how John worked to change the world: by spreading the love of God to all who would have it.

That, and one other way. But that was his second shift. The day shift was for his congregation; the night shift was for all humanity.

“Dear Lord,” John prayed without kneeling or closing his eyes, seated in a chair, hunched forward, fingers laced before him. “Let me serve my public even as I serve You. Your congregation has gathered in Your holy name to worship and praise You. Please allow me to be wise enough to parse You and eloquent enough to deliver Your message to the people. In Jesus name, I pray. Amen.”

John wrapped his suit jacket around him and stepped out on stage. Lydia and Edward always gave him such a beautiful hymnal service before he spoked. They were wonderful children, and in his ever increasing age, it meant so much to him to see good kids take an interest in God and community.

The choir quieted, and John gathered his notes and spoke. 

“Friends, we spoke last week of Hell. We discussed who goes unsaved, and we discussed a little bit of why. We know that rejection of God, of His word and His immaculate plan, is a reason to be. Pursuant to that, the pagan, the queer, and the vain are all damned to Hell for their sin. And this is right and just, for it is laid down by the Lord our God.

“But I was asked this last week, by a young child of our congregation, no why people go to Hell, but rather why there must be a Hell to go to. A childish question? Perhaps. But one that must needs be answered, for so often children see the scriptures more clearly than even you or me.”

John laughed at his little observation, and the audience roundly did as well, and he considered what to do physically. He didn’t like to pace; it seemed undignified to him. The truth was, he simply wasn’t built for big crowds like this. He overanalyzed, he introspected too much. A small country church was where he belonged, not this garish monster of a church. But, God had commanded him very specifically, and he was not one to shirk his duty no matter how uncomfortable. He decided to run a hand through his graying hair, glance up at the dizzyingly bright stage lights, and continue his sermon without pacing.

“The question, fundamentally, is this: how can a God as good as ours be loving, and allow people to be condemned to hellfire? Well, it’s simple, really. In order to love, one must also hate. One cannot love humanity without hating murder. And one cannot love a child without hating child abuse. Would we prefer that our loving God loved these awful things?”

Speaking of crowds, John couldn’t stand it when the audience talked back. His church growing up was very straight-laced; it was unthinkable to him to raise your voice during service. But Austin being what is was, he supposed there was no stopping these hillbillies and hipsters from voicing their opinions. The resounding “NO!” to his rhetorical questions always put him off guard, but he was practiced enough not to show it.

“That’s why there must be a Hell. For God hates sin, and sin cannot be in His divine presence. All of us have sin. All of us are fallen, friends. But by the light of God above, we can transcend our sins. By accepting Christ and his teachings, we can rise above our sins, and we can achieve His glory. Hell is a real place, friends, and only by belief and total obedience to the glory of God can we escape it.”

John paused as the audience cheered, and the angel beside his podium nodded. John smiled, for today he had done his duty before God, and in God’s eyes was just.

…

Why did church have to be so boring?

Taako just couldn’t understand it. Plays were fun, even when they were just idiots talking on a stage. God was all fine and good, whatever. But why did the combination of stage and God put Taako directly to sleep? Taako had dated guys who had dragged him to church before, and that was usually a last date for him. 

It helped that he was in the control booth, watching the stage manager and the lighting technicians do their things while John did his little sermon. That was at least new to him. Kravitz had invited him up to sit with him while he conducted things from above. Taako was lounging in a metal folding chair while Kravitz walked from computer bank to window to stagehand to make things happen below. 

It was still a drag, but Kravitz was hot. So maybe it was worth it.

The plan was this: while the rest of the field team deployed into the crowd-along with a hand selected team of APD officers-Taako was in the booth with Kravitz, making connections and keeping an eye on the cameras. If anything looked sideways, he was supposed to excuse himself and call Davenport.

Taako liked this plan. Very little running and jumping involved. The subterfuge of the job was Taako’s area of expertise.Magnus was the beat-’em-up guy, and Lup was the brass tacks, hardcore one. Taako was the face man, the guy who opened doors. Of course, he passed field agent training, and he could throw hands if he had to, but that just wasn’t his niche. 

Kravitz stepped back over in Taako’s direction, intent on checking the levels on John’s microphone, and he dropped his cell phone. Taako knelt to pick it up, and barely beat Kravitz, who dove on it. Taako held the phone in his hand, and realized Kravitz was recording audio. Every word said by John, everything said by his personnel in the booth, Kravitz was capturing it.

“Taako, give that back, now.” Kravitz said.

Taako looked him in the eyes, made a snap decision, and pressed the home button. Kravitz’s wallpaper was a simple black field with a rainbow emblem, on which were the words ‘Love Wins.’

“You’re the mole,” Taako realized. 

Kravitz grimaced, and in the lobby, holy hell broke loose.

…

The bomb went off to Magnus’s right. The lobby was full, church had just let out, and suddenly, the glass doors of the church shattered with the force of the deafening roar that burst his eardrum and sent people spilling to the ground. Magnus drew his weapon, but in the wreckage of the blast, it was hard to tell if the perpetrator was even still there.

The APD officers went running towards the blast, as the only first responders on the scene, to tend to the wounded. Magnus began to follow them, and he saw Merle, the former Marine, close behind him, when he heard Davenport yell, “Team! On me!”

Magnus whirled, and saw Davenport pointing towards three men in shark masks dragging a small group of hooded people into a dark van at gunpoint. Davenport was far from them, though, and they peeled out by the time he reached the place they had been.

Magnus and Merle caught up to him, and Davenport was already calling Taako to get him outside. He need not have bothered though, because Taako hurried out close behind them. 

“What the fuck was that?” Taako shouted.

“We’ve got a bomber, and we just saw the kidnappers. APD and EMS can take care of things here, we need to run down that van!”

No sooner had he said that than Lup was pulling up in the Bureau’s black suburban. “Get in!” she yelled through the window.

...

If, around the day when Mavis was born, you had asked Merle where he thought he’d be in fifteen years, his guess probably wouldn’t have been ‘in a high speed chase in an FBI vehicle.’ And yet, life has a way of throwing little curveballs that take us off guard and send us sailing down South Lamar, he mused. 

Lup drove like a bobcat chasing a hare through a herd of buffalo. She wove through traffic, never losing sight of her quarry as the van careened away. She finally broke through the traffic and pulled up almost alongside the van. As she did, Davenport began talking softly into Merle’s ear. 

“Merle, what’s about to happen is called a PIT maneuver. That stands for pursuit intervention technique. She’s going to pull up close behind them, and slam into them about at the level of the rear tire, causing them to spin out. When that happens, you’re going to feel a jolt, and you’re going to get down, because we don’t know what’s going to happen after that. Ready?”

“...I suppose so?”

Davenport nodded to Lup in the rearview mirror. “Hit it.”

...

Lup’s earliest memory was wanting to be a fighter pilot. She was a thrill seeker and an overachiever, these things made her happy. 

Her second earliest memory was Greg fuckin’ Grimaldis stealing her lunch in kindergarten, and her pushing him down at recess. She was also mean as a South Texas rattlesnake when she had to be.

These traits combined made her a positively ferocious federal agent. And the most dangerous driver ever to hold a license. 

None of this was on her mind as she performed her PIT maneuver. The only thing she was thinking about was Magnus beside her holding his weapon, and the people in the van who needed a hero. 

The van was all over the road. The sound of engines and honking horns and the team’s sirens filled the air. As they were about to reach the 35 on ramp, Lup made her move. She swung the vehicle wide and slammed into the side of the van, and there was a harrowing moment where she wasn’t sure if she’d hit right, whether the van would spin like she’d intended.

Then the tires began to slide sideways. The van spun end over end, and collided with a column on the turnabout under the highway. The team pulled their SUV up alongside, and Magnus, Lup, and Taako burst out with their weapons drawn. 

“FBI, get out of the car!”

Their commands were met with a hail of gunfire, the klak klak klak that means somebody has an automatic weapon. The team got covered behind the SUV, and Lup saw Davenport slam Merle into the ground and lay on top of him. Magnus navigated his way to the back of the SUV and withdrew a pair of shotguns, handing one to Taako and cocking one himself. Lup chambered a round in her service weapon, and heard sirens incoming.

Someone in the van tried to start it, and the engine turned over but wouldn’t start. Lup heard a loud curse, and sensed her moment. She nodded, and the team charged, 

Magnus and Taako closed the distance to the vehicle first, and Lup help back to cover them. She watched Magnus take up a position along the side of the van and Taako slam the butt of his weapon into the driver’s window, shouting and gesturing for the shark-masked driver to get out. He raised his hands and disembarked onto his knees. 

Then he drew a knife and started to spin on Taako. Lup shot him in the back as he was about to stab her brother, and he went down. 

Meanwhile, Magnus was throwing open the back of the van. He recoiled as the bullets poured out at him. He looked at Taako and gestured for him to breach on the other side. 

Lup moved up and covered the one she’d shot. She kicked away his knife, then began applying first aid. 

“Ahh, fuck you lady!” said the downed kidnapper. 

“You’re not cute enough,” she answered, applying pressure to his wound. 

She heard more shots from the back, scuffling, and saw Magnus and Taako dragging the kidnappers out and shoving them down. Magnus covered them as Taako handcuffed them. 

...

The first APD officer on scene was a young man, fresh out of the academy. He was out of his depth. He pulled out onto the scene and jumped out of his vehicle ready to face a situation. What he found was a well contained tidy little crime scene. A short man in a blue suit with fiery red hair walked up to him and showed him a badge. 

“Hello, officer. Special Agent in Charge Drew Davenport. The Bureau is taking control of this crime scene We have the it contained. We need EMS on scene immediately, we have an injured perp. We need traffic shut down to this area, and we need someone to come collect that van for us. Can you handle all that?”

The officer was still fumbling with his notebook, trying to get everything down. This many things had never all happened to him at once.

“Officer?” Davenport asked.

“Yes! Hello sir!” Officer Angus answered.


	6. 1 Corinthians 16:14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the wake of the attack on Life Everlasting, the agents resolve to become more aggressive.

“Hallo, hallo, velcome to Magic BRY-N news. Our guest tonight is ze Reverend John Hunger. Reverend, I must ask you, is Christianity under attack in zis country?”

John had never done radio before, but he imagined interviews shouldn’t be quite this easy. BRY-N, Austin’s local news channel, never missed a chance to be as blunt as possible, and the evening host, Brian, was pitching John the softest questions in the world in that lilting, stupid german accent of his.

“Well of course Christianity is under attack, Brian. Just look at the rates at which church attendance are falling all over the country. Look at the fact that children aren’t allowed to pray in schools, and teachers are afraid to invoke the good Lord’s name. Look at the recent attack on my own church. These things are all about Christians being afraid to be Christians, and that’s an attack if I’ve ever seen one.”

“Very interesting points. Tell me please about ze attack on your church, vhat exactly vas your experience, dahling?”

John hung his head in practiced, theatrical sorrow. “Well, I had just finished my sermon. I was greeting my parishioners at the stage, as I usually do, when suddenly, I heard the bang of the bomb going off, and I felt the building shake around me. I heard… So much screaming…”

Brian draped himself tearfully across his microphone. “How simply terrible for you, dahling. I veep to zink about it…”

John was amazed at how simple this idiot was. Didn’t he have the wherewithal to realize he was being used? He laughed on the inside, but outwardly he cleared his throat. “I only thank God and his one begotten son Jesus Christ for the first responders, the police and emergency medical personnel, who heroically rescued my congregation from the flames.”

Brian was openly weeping. “Yes… Zey are ze true heroes! But vat do you say about reports zat ze FBI was there as well, investigating you, and zat zey foiled un kidnapping of your church members?”

John stopped laughing. Perhaps he had overplayed his hand, or perhaps Magic Brian had a little magic in him after all. “Well, about that…”

...

Officer Angus McDonald was a tenacious kid. He graduated top of his class from the academy because he was faster and smarter and braver than any of his competitors. He was sharp, and he resented directing traffic. But, direct traffic he did, as the city workers cleared away the wreckage of the high speed chase for the previous hours. He directed traffic like a champion; he had been the head of his elementary school’s safety patrol after all, so he’d been training for this all his life.

He knew something more was happening than just the surface level: a kidnapping occurred at the church at the same time a bomb happened to go off? Seemed suspicious. Angus knew what a mystery looked like, and this certainly was one. And no mystery was safe from Officer Ango!

As he stepped around a Subaru to tell it to cross, he heard a crunch underfoot. He looked down, and jumped. He had stepped on a long, crooked dagger. 

He looked at the wrecked van, near enough that the dagger could belong to it. He looked back down at the dagger. And he grinned; already, a clue!

… 

A suit wasn’t Merle’s style. He was more of a Hawaaian shirt, khakis kind of guy. Even at his sermons, the most formal he was likely to dress was a polo, maybe a button down shirt at Christmas and Easter. But if he was too attend the press conference following the daring high speed downtown car chase, Merle was expected to look the part. So, Davenport had lent him a three-piece gray linen job, which was stylish, but two sizes too small in the gut. Merle stood at the back of the press gaggle surrounding the little black stage in front of the Austin Police Department headquarters, watching Davenport give his speech. Lucretia reclined against the fountain behind them.

“And so, following the explosion, my team leapt into action on two fronts. Myself, Agent Taaco, Agent Taaco, and Agent Burnsides gave chase to an opportunistic kidnapping that developed, while FBI associate Dr. Barry J. Bluejeans selflessly charged into the blast and provided first-response medical treatment to the victims of the bombing. Fortunately, nobody was killed, and those who were wounded are in hospital expected to fully recover. Now, I turn the stage over to Captain Rowan of the APD, to describe their response to the attack...”

“So, I still don’t understand,” Merle whispered to Lucretia. “Why the bombing? Why not just grab the people and get out without making a big scene?”

Lucretia folded her hands in front of her. “Hard to say. It could have been to create a distraction, making the shark-masked men’s escape easier. Or it could have been a genuine terror attack. Or…” She shook her head. “I don’t know, Merle. I’ve been studying criminology for my entire adult life, and I don’t know that I’ve ever seen a case like this one. Something is wrong with the whole John ordeal. Something… sinister.”

A cold wind blew across the plaza, unseasonable for so late in the spring. It carried with it an evil portent of lean days to come.

...

“Soooo, hey babe. What’s new?”

Kravitz had been avoiding answering this call for days, but you can only delay the inevitable for so long.

“Taako, you shouldn’t be talking to me. You shouldn’t even know about me. If either of us is compromised by John, we’ll compromise the whole operation against him.”

“No, I know, I know. But now there’s this like...tension, between us. Before I thought you were just a mindless bigot drone. But now that I know you’re cool… Well, maybe we could be something!”

“Maybe. I certainly find you attractive, but… Taako! It’s so unsafe!”

“I’m a g-man, baby. Danger is my middle name!” Kravitz could hear that dumb, adorable smile through the phone. In spite of himself, he smiled too.

“What, you mean your middle name isn’t also Taco? Spelled some new and exciting way?”

“Just give me dinner, one night this week. I’ll pick you up at six o’clock friday evening, take you out for a nice meal. I’ll impress you!”

Kravitz gave a deep sigh. It was inappropriate, but Taako wouldn’t stop calling unless he said yes eventually.

“Fine. Friday night, six o’clock. You had better impress me.”

He could hear the fist pump too. Taako was many wonderful things; none of them were ‘subtle.’

“You’re on, big daddy!” he said. “I promise, it’ll be a night you’ll never remember!”

And the line went dead, just like Kravitz’s career in ministry, most likely.

…

“Well, Magnus, how have you been since we last met?”

“Actually really good!” Magnus answered, pleased that he could finally bring good news. “We made a big bust last Sunday, and I thought about what everyone said last time, and I trusted Taako and Lup to do their jobs. And it paid off! They were fine, we got the guys-Lup even did the driving and the PIT maneuver-and everything was cool!”

“That’s good to hear! Are you surprised by their capableness?” Brad answered. 

The support group really could be worse, Magnus decided. It was all veterans and cops, so they understood him in a way most groups wouldn’t. And Brad of course was a good leader, and knew how to get Magnus to own hs bullshit and drag it out into the open.

“Y’know, on one level, no,” Magnus answered. “They went through the same training as me. They both have badges. They can conduct themselves in the field the same as I can. But on another level, yeah, totally. Giving them control was weird. I felt my usual need to take total control, own the situation, make all the choices. But I didn’t, and everything was cool.”\

“Let me ask you this,” Brad said. “What would you have done if you did all that, and one of your team had been hurt?”

“Oh, I’d be split-ski,” Magnus said, making a pistol-firing gesture into his mouth. “That’s all, folks. Picture wrap on Magnus.”

“Wow.” Brad said. “You’re being very cavalier about your own death, Magnus.”

“When your death is your life, you get used to it.”

“I have a theory,” Brad said. “Tell me, how would you feel about Taako if he had been hurt? Would you have resented him?”

“What are you talking about? No, I love Taako. I wouldn’t resent him.”

“I think you’re lying, Magnus.”

Magnus took a deep breath and thought. “I’d resent him. I’d wring the little bastard’s neck. He can’t leave me like that.”

Brad nodded. “Torture and forgiveness are two sides of the same coin. It’s better to forgive, but it’s easier to torture. Your instinct is to torture yourself, and Taako, when you should forgive.” 

…

Lup and Magnus swung into the interrogation room where one of the shark-masked kidnappers was waiting for them. Lup whistled. “Boy, you look like ten miles of bad road in reverse, huh? How’s that GSW healing up?”

The man involuntarily rubbed the spot where Lup had shot him, but said nothing.

Magnus slapped his folder down on the table. “Maarvey Mills. Age of twenty-seven. Brown hair, brown eyes, caucasian. You’re looking at a lot of jail time, buddy.”

Maarvey stared at the table. “Where’s my lawyer?”

“On his way,” Lup said. “But we thought we’d have a chat in the meantime.”

Magnus sat down across from Maarvey. “So, why’d y’all try to kidnap that woman?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Were y’all responsible for the bombing?”

“Nope.”

“What does your little gang have to do with Life Everlasting?”

“Never heard of it.”

“You sure don’t know much, huh?”

“Not a damn thing, agent.”

“Well, I know this,” Lup said. “We’ve got you on kidnapping, we’ve got you on assaulting an officer with a firearm, and we’ve got you on hella resisting arrest. If it turns out you were involved with the bombing, that’s domestic terrorism. Now, if you want any leeway, you’re gonna have to play ball.”

Maarvey sighed heavily. “Alright, here: we didn’t know about the bombing. We were just told to wait for our signal. We kidnapped the chicks because the money was good.”

“Who hired you?”

Then a lawyer entered the room, and the fun promptly ended.

… 

Merle and Davenport rolled back into the office and collapsed into their chairs. Press conferences were exhausting and boring and full of bureaucrats praising the bureaucracy. For a long time they just sat there in silene, staring at the ceiling and thinking about the previous days. Davenport broke the silence.

“We need a new plan.”

“What do you recommend, cowboy?”

“We need to get aggressive.”

“I agree.”

“Take the fight to John.”

“Definitely.”

“You need to meet with him.”

“I need to what?!”

Merle sat up straight and stared at Davenport. “Davy, I don’t know if you remember this, but I’m a small town preacher. I’m out of my depth here. This is so far above my pay grade, I’m looking up at it with a telescope. And you want me to meet with John?”

“It’s our only card. You’re the one he knows, that’s why we brought you in. It’s time to play it. You can get close to him and learn something we can’t.”

“Davy, look at me,” Merle said, and Davenport obliged. Their faces were close, and Davenport felt Merle’s hot, panicked breath. “If he knows what I’m up to, he will kill me. I’m scared. I don’t want to do this.”

Davenport opened his mouth to rebuke Merle, to call him a coward. But Merle wasn’t one of his agents. He couldn’t bully him into compliance. Merle was here of his own good will, and he couldn’t abuse that. He reached up and gently touched Merle’s face. 

“I know you’re scared, Merle. I understand that. You should be, this is scary. But we need you now. It’s the bottom of the ninth, and you’re up. You need to swing.” His hand rested on Merle’s cheek. “I need you to swing.”

Merle sighed, and he knew that he’d been beat. “Alright, alright. What’s the plan?”

**Author's Note:**

> New chapter updates as they are written, around 2,000 words each. This is my first fanfiction; I love TAZ too much to not write it. Thanks for reading!


End file.
